


Table Read

by noblydonedonnanoble



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-04
Updated: 2012-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-03 01:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblydonedonnanoble/pseuds/noblydonedonnanoble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every other person sitting at the table is oblivious, too busy with the reading to notice us.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Table Read

Every time I look up at her, I feel so horribly tempted. She’s looking at her script so intently, and keeps biting her lip. Sometimes I’m too obvious, turning my head too much in her direction, and she looks up at me for a moment with a small smile playing at her lips. I grin back, and I watch closely for the second when you can see my smile register, watch as her face lights up a little bit more. It’s nearly imperceptible, but I notice, because I notice everything about her.

Her knee keeps bumping mine, and her elbow and her hand. At first I think it’s an accident, but after the fourth time, it’s pretty clear that it’s intentional. Each time her skin makes contact with mine, I fight to not jerk away from the way she makes me shiver, regardless of how much I eventually expect it.

Every other person sitting at the table is oblivious, too busy with the reading to notice us.

She reaches along the table, sliding so slowly it’s agonizing, and covers my fingers with her own one by one. Her touch is electric, and I’m working so hard to keep a straight face and read my lines at the right moments.

For a second, her hand is directly on mine. I flip my hand over and reach out my fingers to interlace them with hers, but her hand has already moved to her script to turn the page.

I barely suppress a groan, and exhale loudly instead. From my other side, John nudges me. When I look at him, he has a puzzled expression on his face. What is up with you? he mouths. I shrug. “It’s nothing,” I whisper.

I don’t care about his response—if he even makes one—because now her knee is just barely resting against mine.

Right before I have to read some very serious line, she drops a pen underneath the table and bends down to pick it up. I get a great whiff of her shampoo, and almost jump a foot in the air when I feel her hand brush lightly across my thigh. The first word of my line comes out almost as a whimper.

I finish speaking, avoiding the eyes of everyone across from me, and glance at her for a split second as she listens to Billie speak. Her eyes are intently trained on the script once more, biting her lip. This time, though, I can tell she’s truly biting back a laugh.

She sits and fiddles with her necklace as she speaks, and I know she’s aware of the way this movement draws my eyes away from her face and downward as I glance at her once more.

I watch her hand as it makes its way off the table and rests on her thigh. I’m considering moving my hand down to rest on top of hers, but she’s a step ahead of me—all of a sudden her hand is on my leg instead. Her fingers trace random patterns and circles on the spot just above my knee.

I swallow, staring directly ahead. I’d be concerned about John noticing, but he, Billie and Freema are too busy reading a scene they have together for him to notice.

This time when I move, she stays, and I slide my hand under the table to rest on top of hers. I flip her hand over and weave our fingers together, holding tight.

I lean over toward her, so close to her ear that my mouth is almost touching it. “Catherine, later.” The words come out as a sigh, and I know that she’s internally laughing again. I breathe in her scent for a moment before sitting back in my chair.

Russell finally announces a break. People file out of the room, and she and I casually wander off down a deserted hall, at the end of which we know is a stairwell.

As soon as we’re through the door I’m pressing her against it and she’s kissing me. Our hands are wandering and breathing becomes entirely irrelevant.

“I hate you,” I murmur.

She smiles against my lips. “It was just a bit of teasing.” Yes. A bit of teasing. That’s what worries me.

After a minute, I pull away, taking her hands and leaning my forehead against hers. “Would you please promise to be good?”

Now, at last, she can truly laugh at me. “Never.” She leans up and kisses me once more. “C’mon, you. We should to get back to the table read before John decides he needs to sit between us.”

John doesn’t sit between us. Which is lucky, because now it’s my turn to be so horribly tempting.


End file.
